


Frosting the Pie

by celli



Category: Alias
Genre: Established Relationship, Food Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-25
Updated: 2003-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pie still doesn't get frosted. But Vaughn does. *smirk*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frosting the Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: "Salvation." Thanks to Lizbet and Shelley for the betas, Diana for the spoiler help, and Amanda C and Nanda for the...erm...encouragement.
> 
> This fic is for Diana. Happy birthday! *big hugs* I love you.

"Please, tell me they're all gone," Michael said as he came out of the kitchen.

Sydney laughed. "Don't be such a grouch. The party was your idea."

"Yeah, but the cooking was yours. Most people just open a bunch of chips for New Year's. You and Will had to make ham and mashed potatoes and God knows what all."

"We wanted to soak up all the alcohol."

"I think it worked. You'll be lucky if they don't all fall asleep on the way home." He waved her off when she reached for the clutter on the nearest table. "No, leave that alone. We can clean up tomorrow."

"It'll be worse tomorrow." But she settled onto the couch and kicked off her shoes. "Or later today, I suppose."

"Look."

Sydney peeked over his shoulder. "You saved us pie! Ooh, is it the Dutch apple?"

"It is. And there's more." Michael held up something.

She squinted. "That's chocolate frosting."

"I know."

Her brow furrowed to match his before it hit her. She burst into delighted laughter. "Frosting the pie! Don't frost the pie!"

He grinned. "You remembered."

"Of course. God, I haven't thought about that in years."

"I found the frosting when I was looking for forks, and I just couldn't resist." He opened it.

"Not on the Dutch apple!" He kept going. "Vaughn!"

"I love it when you call me Vaughn. You only do it when you're trying to be stern, you know."

She tried to glare, but the giggles got in the way. "You are not putting chocolate frosting on my favorite pie ever. It's _don't_ frost the pie, remember?"

"Yeah?" He dangled the frosting just out of her reach. "What're you gonna do about it, Agent Bristow?"

It took two easy moves to have the frosting in her hand, although she did sort of miss and ended up with her fingers halfway inside. "Ew." She licked at one finger. Then she looked back at Michael, who had an interesting expression on his face. "Yeeees?"

"Oh, nothing."

She gave him a long, considering look, then reached out. Michael had brown streaks down his nose and chin before he could blink.

"What the--!"

"I'm indulging my artistic side."

"Your what?"

"Shh." She went back to filling in his forehead wrinkles.

"Sydney..."

"Quiet, Vaughn." She ignored his glare and went to work on his lips. "This is fun. It's like lipstick, but--hey, don't lick." She dropped the frosting on the coffee table. "That's my job."

The kiss tasted like chocolate and wine and...mmm...and just a little bit of salt from dinner. Who knew that was the perfect taste? She finished with his mouth--at least for the moment--and worked her way along his jawline. Michael sank back into the couch.

"Sydney--Syd--that's my--" He broke off as she sucked at the base of his neck, right where his pulse was jumping. "Uh, that's my new shirt you're smearing chocolate on."

"That's no fun." She had it unbuttoned and halfway down his arms before he could even think to help her. She pushed it to his elbows, effectively trapping his hands at his sides. Then, with an even more devilish look, she grabbed the frosting again. More lines of frosting down his chest and across his shoulders, with the lightest of sugar-coated touches, followed by the deliberate flicks of her tongue as she nibbled at it.

"Those are new pants, too," he said hopefully, and she laughed into his navel.

"Michael?"

If he wriggled his hands just a bit, he might be able to reach _her_ shirt... "Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you t--hey!" he yelped as she slid her hand into his pants. "Sydney! That's cold!"

"You didn't complain earlier." She had that innocent look he loved, the one that had always worked on foreign agents and literature professors. He never believed it, but it always turned him on.

"Yes, well, you're dealing with body parts that are just a little more sensitive there."

"Aw, poor baby. Want me to warm you up?"

"Yes?" he said faintly.

That soft laugh, the one that could instantly arouse him over a tapped phone or a hidden microphone, and the last of it muffled against his skin as she took him into her mouth. Michael arched backwards; he was pretty sure he was seeing stars. Sydney's hands were on his hips, her thumbs sliding into the grooves on his hips she unerringly found every time they made love. His skin felt cooler and slipperier than usual with the frosting on it, making her mouth seem warmer and its movements quicker.

He could feel her throat working around him as he came, and knew she was smiling. She always smiled. After a few moments, she wriggled to his side. Her head dropped to his chest, and he worked a hand free to rest on her hair.

"That was...wow," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you...?"

She waved a hand vaguely. "Whenever you get your breath back."

"Okay."

He scrunched down to meet her lips in a brief kiss; she tasted like sex and chocolate. "Mmm."

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "we still have the pie."

Michael laid his head back and laughed. "Not tonight, honey. I'm covered in chocolate."


End file.
